Survival Instinct
by Color With Marker
Summary: It started out as any other Monday. It should have been any other Monday. But then every student is huddled in a classroom as gunshots ring out through the halls. Soon, they're more worried about if their class will be shot, or if their friends are still safe.
1. Introduction

Everything than can go wrong will go wrong on a Monday. That was Tony's philosophy, something he'd proclaimed freshman year during lunch. Natasha and Pepper had rolled their eyes. Steve, Thor, and Bruce had failed to convince him otherwise. Clint had agreed wholeheartedly. He even added, "Watch – one Monday, the five of you will see our side of the spectrum."

On Monday, February tenth, two thousand fourteen, in the prime of their junior year, everyone reported to their homerooms, as usual, with Tony spouting off his hatred of this day of the week.

"You're only complaining because you have a hangover," Natasha commented, eyes glued to her Advanced Russian textbook. "And because you're starting every week off with a shitty attitude doesn't mean the rest of us are."

It was miraculous, how their core group of six – Pepper wasn't usually included, as she was busy with her numerous academics and extra-curricular activities nowadays, and rarely talked to anyone other than Tony or Natasha in a given week – all had the same homeroom, doubling as their first-period English class. They were all in the first and second rows, taking up the last three seats. Tony claimed the back corner seat, where he'd be able to sleep through each lesson, with Thor next to him, his height letting him able to see over the heads in front of him, directly in front being Natasha. In front of her was Bruce, who took notes with Steve, who sat next to him, and Clint occupying the final one. As of that moment, all but Thor were present, with seven minutes to spare, and the class slowly filling up.

When the bell rang to signal a five-minute warning before class began, Thor walked in the room, face contorted with worry.

"You okay, big guy?" Tony asked as he sat down.

"Loki refused to come to school today," Thor said, almost distant-sounding. "He claimed he felt ill last night and Mother let him stay in bed all yesterday and today, but there was something about his disposition that was… off-putting."

"You know, I've had this weird feeling this morning, too," Clint said. "Almost like I should be expecting something _big_. And not in the good way."

"Just because you don't like Loki doesn't mean you can accuse him without any reasoning," Natasha scolded.

The rest of the group kept their comments to themselves. Loki was Thor's adopted brother, and only hung around when Thor or one of their parents forced him to. He was very sour around them, and could easily pick fights with Clint. If someone started a conversation he deemed intelligent enough, usually Bruce or Natasha, he'd contribute until he grew bored again. In fact, they were the only two he seemed to _like_. Clint, on the other hand, swore he was out to get them ever since he tried to shove Tony through a glass door.

"Don't let his crush blind-side you," Clint countered. Natasha rolled her eyes. Clint's jokes about Loki being in love with her were getting old. "I know that prick is up to something. I can feel it."

From there the conversation died. Natasha returned to her textbook. Tony and Bruce compared lab notes from their last experiment in physics. Clint and Thor stared into space, both keeping Loki on their minds. Steve took out his notebook and pen, ready to take notes on _Grendel_.

Once class officially started, their teacher, Mr. Xavier, walked into the room and stared at his class, all waiting for instructions. He sighed and said, "Today will be a free period. I feel we could all use one." He then sat at his computer and began taking attendance:

"Robert Banner."

"Here."

"James Barnes… James Barnes…"

Steve turned toward the other back corner of the room, where Bucky usually sat ever since he and Natasha broke up. It was empty.

"Well, I guess James isn't here. Clinton Barton."

"Here."

"Carol Danvers."

"Here."

"Jessica Drew."

"Here."

Now Steve was worried. Both Bucky _and_ Loki were absent?

"Kamala Khan."

"Here."

"Scott Lang."

"Here."

Once in a while, the two of them would work together to wreak havoc, whether it be scaring girls in the locker rooms or planting stink bombs in people's lockers. When the two were together, they were bound to cause trouble.

"Barbara Morse."

"Here."

"Thor Odinson."

"Present, sir."

Lately, Bucky had been avoiding him. Not just when Natasha was around, but _always_. Steve would wave to him between classes, and Bucky would duck his head and walk faster. Football season had been over for a while, and track didn't start for a few more weeks. There was nothing keeping them from spending time together like they used to.

"Peter Parker."

"Here."

"Henry Pym."

"Here."

His mind suddenly flashed to when they were younger, building pillow forts and telling ghost stories under them. Back when Steve was sick and frail. Bucky would always scare him, then hug him, promising it was just a story.

"James Rhodes."

"Here."

This was scarier than the ghost stories, and Steve didn't know why.

"Steven Rogers."

Steve snapped out of his daze, face reddening when he didn't respond right away. "Here, sir."

Mr. Xavier didn't seem to notice. "Natasha Romanoff."

"Here."

Please let me be paranoid, Steve thought. Maybe it was Thor and Clint's talking just getting to him.

"Anthony Stark."

"Pree-sent."

"Jonathan Storm."

"Yo."

Steve turned the other way to look at Clint. Now he had a bad feeling balling up in the pit of his stomach. Was he right?

"Janet van Dyne."

"Here."

Please let Clint be an idiot.

"Jennifer Walters."

"Here."

Please let Clint's hatred of Mondays be the reason he feels weird.

"Samuel Wilson."

"Here."

Just… please.

* * *

><p>Pepper shut the door behind her as she slipped into the empty computer lab. Today was a field trip for Mr. Lensherr's classes to a computer manufacturing warehouse. The room also doubled as the yearbook clubroom, and the deadline for the finished product was four weeks away. Pepper had been given permission to spend the day editing and meeting said deadline. Now a junior, Pepper realized that not only were less people interested in helping out in yearbook club, but it was difficult to put one together when only two people actually did the work. Even better, her partner-in-crime wasn't present today. Perfect.<p>

Pepper placed her bag on an empty chair and turned on one of the computers. She was going to have a long ten hours of work ahead of her – she was already staying after school to do this, but she needed all the time she could put in to this.

About ten pictures in, of which she could identify only four of the seventeen people photographed, the window nearest to her was slammed open. Pepper jumped in her seat, barely catching herself before crashing onto the floor, before the culprit moved the shade aside and poked their head around.

Pepper straightened herself on her seat and stomped her foot on the ground. "I thought you were absent."

"I was absent-minded about how late I stayed out and hurried over as soon as I woke up," Loki countered as he gracefully entered through the window. "I was going to visit the front desk, but then I remembered that this window can't be locked."

"So you're technically still absent?"

"Does it matter?"

Pepper took in her friend's appearance. Loki was wearing a green halter top (Natasha's), black skinny jeans (hers), black high-heeled ankle boots (a gift for Christmas from her to him), and the straps of a black thong were high on his bare torso (she hoped they were his – she hated when he stole her underwear). She gave him a look that warned him to confess why, as it was entirely against the dress code.

"Remember Thor's older friend? That dashing blond army guy?" Loki asked. Pepper nodded. "Well, he called me last night and asked if I wanted to 'hang out' with him. So I snuck out, we watched some weird documentary on school shootings, and then we screwed around all night. I kind of fell asleep before leaving, so I left this morning before he woke up and hitched a ride here."

"You're a pig. Do I have to show you _Thirteen_ again?"

"Pepper, I'm fifteen. I can take care of myself. Besides, all it does is give me new outfit ideas. I'm not so easily swayed into becoming a good kid all of the sudden because Evan Rachel Wood's character got fucked up." Loki plopped onto the chair next to Pepper and smiled sweetly. "And how could I leave you to deal with the yearbook all by yourself?"

Pepper rolled her eyes but smiled back. She really did need the help, and Loki knew more faces than she did. He went out to all the parties and mingled with any new face he met. "So why a documentary on school shootings?" she asked as Loki logged on to a separate computer. "That's not really a mood-setter."

"He said he was giving a lecture to a public high school about how to respond in those kinds of situations," Loki explained. "It was kind of cool. Did you know that if the person next to you is shot, you should put their blood on your face and body and play dead so you won't be the next target?"

"That's morbid!"

"Hey, if it saves your life, there's no loss there. Besides, Pep, there's no way you'd ever end up in a situation like that. The shooter would feel so guilty when he saw your pretty face that he'd give himself up."

"Funny." Pepper watched as Loki opened the website for the yearbook. "What else did you learn last night?"

"I kind of zoned out when I started sucking Fandral's dick," Loki answered casually.

Pepper rolled her eyes again and went back to identifying her peers in random pictures as the bell for second period rang loud and clear.

* * *

><p>Emma Frost blew against her freshly-painted-white fingernails as she sat in the office for the principals. Currently, Headmaster Summers was in a meeting downtown with the board of education to discuss the possibility of having prom in the newly-built hotel by the school, which had a much larger ballroom than the one the school usually used. Assistant Headmistress Munroe was visiting schools in the area to discuss with them how much they would gain by attending one of the most prestigious and cheapest private schools, and how much it would help them academically. As head secretary, she was given the title of Headmistress for a Day (coined by Summers, who thought it was funny and cute, but his wife frowned at from the main office).<p>

Suddenly, the door to the main office opened with a thud. Emma looked up to see a man holding a large duffel bag and pointing a handgun around the office. The women in the office let out tiny shrieks. Each were quickly silenced by the click of the hammer being pulled back.

Emma quietly slid under the desk. She didn't have time to lock the door without giving herself away. Hopefully she wouldn't be given away. However, there was a certain button in reaching distance that she could press to save quite a few lives.

As she heard more footsteps flood the main office, and the clicks of guns being put together, she pressed the button on the edge of the desk and went right back into hiding.

* * *

><p>"<em>To all staff, this is a message from your headmaster, Scott Summers, advising you to make sure all students have no electronics on them. It is vital that they aren't distracted from their education. Please collect them and hold them until the end of the day. Thank you for your cooperation."<em>

In the teachers and students' handbooks, the phrase was placed in there as a warning that they were to go into lockdown mode, and that it was not a drill.

Natasha, who was posed to serve the volleyball across the net and was ready to see if she could hit Johnny Storm in the face, dropped the ball at the message. It was one that had never been played aloud. The entire gym went silent. No one knew what to do.

"All those playing volleyball, go to the girls' locker room immediately!" Coach Chang shouted. "All those playing basketball or using the exercise equipment, go to the boys' locker room immediately!" The coach then used grand arm gestures to motion the students on her half of the gym into the locker room. Natasha obeyed, falling in line with Tony and Sam as they filed into the locker room.

"I finally get to see what this place looks like," Tony joked.

"Don't screw around," Natasha ordered.

"Into the showers, students!" Coach Chang ordered. "Huddle in there! All of you!"

Sam sat cross-legged on the floor, not caring that his gym shorts were getting wet, and let Natasha sit on his lap, while Tony crouched beside them. The other students were all sitting or standing against the walls, whispering amongst themselves about their believability and lack of about the situation.

"You think this is real?" Bobbi asked, loud enough for Natasha to hear.

"Nah," Johnny answered. "Probably trying to scare us shitless."

"But they've never used it before," Peter pointed out. "It could be real."

"We'll see what happens," Harry said.

Natasha inhaled and exhaled deeply. This wasn't a situation she was used to.

Then they heard the faint echoes of gunshots. The room went silent. Only the faint drip of one of the showerheads was heard.

Sam instinctively hugged Natasha closer, as if the killer was right in front of them and ready to open fire. She would usually oppose, but now wasn't the time. She let Sam hold her and prayed they wouldn't come this way.

* * *

><p>"Of course today is the day I came to class late," Bucky muttered as he and the rest of the math class were pressed in the farthest corner of the room.<p>

"You should be lucky you came earlier," Sharon hissed. "If you showed up now, they'd kill you."

"If I didn't show up at all, I'd be safe."

"How considerate."

The gunshots stopped their bickering. It sounded close, but not too close. Definitely on the ground floor, though.

Steve suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe.

* * *

><p>Thor was surprised as how calm Jane was. Darcy, on the other hand, was silently crying, her hand gripping Jane's so hard her knuckles were white. Thor was surprised at how scared Sif looked. Most of all, he was surprised at how calm <em>he<em> was.

Perhaps it was because he had everyone he needed to worry about with him. Loki was at home, safe from harm.

* * *

><p>"Loki, please, I don't want to hide in the cabinet!" Pepper whispered in protest.<p>

"The classroom is supposed to be empty anyway," Loki insisted. "And they won't think to look in here. Now please let me do this!"

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine. Don't worry about it. Just stay in here until the police come, okay?"

Pepper looked into her friend's eyes. She wanted to trust him, but she was scared for him too. "Okay."

* * *

><p>The best part about science classrooms, Clint realized, was that there was a smaller room inside of it, big enough for all of the students to hide in. So, lucky for him, instead of having to do another lab for AP Chemistry, he could sit in here with Bruce, who was trying to help everyone do breathing exercises to say calm.<p> 


	2. Natasha, Sam, & Tony - Girls Locker Room

When she was younger, Natasha had been trained by her ballet instructors to remain still for long periods of time. Why? There had been several recitals where Natasha's part was killed off or a statue, and she was younger, lighter, and patient compared to the other girls. It was a tactic she used often in life, mostly to help her concentrate on studying.

Right now, the tactic was being used to keep herself calm, while other students huddled and cried silently. Johnny Storm, the playboy that he was, had a lapful of Bobbi Morse keeping him company, and was even eying Natasha, as if he was trying to extend his comfort over to her. Even in serious situations, some men were still trying to get a piece of ass. Despicable, she thought.

She was no longer sitting in Sam's lap, but had moved over to sit in Tony's instead. Any other time, he would have cracked joke after joke, saying things like, "I knew you'd come to me eventually." However, he wasn't acting like Johnny. He was too focused on his phone to do so.

"Pepper isn't replying to my texts," he said. "She always replies to my texts right away."

"Maybe she doesn't have her phone," Natasha offered.

"But she always has her phone too."

"This isn't a situation where her first priority is her phone. It's staying safe with everyone else. She's in history class with Steve right now. She's fine."

"No, she's not." Natasha raised an eyebrow and turned her head to face Tony. "Today she's in the computer lab working on the yearbook."

"There are seven students on the yearbook staff."

"Yeah, but she's the only one doing the damn thing. Well, her and Loki, but the little shit isn't here today. She's stuck in that room all by herself, probably wondering when I'm going to get to her." Tony tried to push Natasha off his lap. "Let me up. I need to get Pepper."

"I'm not letting you go anywhere, Tony," Natasha said sternly, holding her ground and not budging against Tony's push. "You running out there is only going to get all of us killed."

"But I can't help Pepper from here!"

"And you're not going to help Pepper by getting yourself killed. Pepper's a big girl. She can take care of herself."

"But… but…"

Tony's breaths grew shorter and shorter. Natasha moved off his lap and kneeled in front of him. Tears were gathering in the corners of his eyes. His left hand began clutching his chest, fingers wound tightly in the fabric of his white gym shirt. His gaze danced from left to right, trying to find focus on something, anything else.

Natasha had only heard from Pepper that Tony had panic attacks now and then, but she hadn't really believed it. Tony was too suave to be so scared of anything, in her opinion. But now it was all too real for her.

Natasha put her hands on either side of Tony's face and pulled him close. "Focus on me," she whispered quietly enough so only he could hear her. Tony now looking at the ceiling. "Tony, I need you to focus. Look me in the eye." He listened. Tears were now rolling down his cheek. "Good. Look into my eyes and listen to my voice. Just listen to me speak."

"You say that like it's easy," Tony whimpered.

"I wouldn't know. This is my first time coaching someone through a panic attack."

Tony let out a breathy laugh. "First time I didn't rub a handful of ice cubes on my face to calm down."

Natasha chuckled. "Now you need to take a deep breath," she instructed, before demonstrating. "Now match my breathing, okay? Breathe in… two… three… four… five… and out… two… three… four… five… you're doing great. Now again…"

Tony struggled to follow Natasha at first, but he did get control of himself and managed to regain control of his breathing. Natasha smiled as Tony was able to slowly calm down. She had no idea what she was doing at first, but hey, at least it worked out.

"Nat." Natasha looked up to see Sam, who was outside the showers and by the lockers. Natasha handed Tony his phone, telling him to play a game to keep himself occupied (read: distracted), and walked over to Sam.

"What's up?" she asked.

"Coach Chang locked herself in the office," Sam said. "She's been talking to Coach Fury about what to do, and he said not to react until one of those assholes with guns breaks in here."

"That's reckless. If anything, we're more vulnerable by her being secluded. No one would bother with the office. If anything, she'll just lock herself up without a single care for us."

"Now I see why Coach Fury always calls her selfish."

"We can't just sit out in the open. Half of us could be killed before she did anything, and then she'd just get herself killed with the rest of us."

"Which is why I want to find any weapons we can use for self-defense if we get targeted."

Natasha's eyebrows rose at Sam's statement. "You want to put these people in charge of saving the day?" she asked. "Do we not attend the same school? Do you know these people?"

"In different situations, people act in different ways," Sam said. He peered around Natasha and into the showers, where everyone was still huddled around. Natasha looked over her shoulder at Tony. He was engrossed with his phone. Hopefully, he was playing a game and not texting Pepper. Sam spoke again, taking her attention away from Tony. "You did good, calming him down. I've never seen him so… not Tony," he said.

"He's worried about Pepper," she said. "Apparently it triggered something in him. I don't know where it came from, but it's got a hold of him."

"She'll be fine. Everyone will be fine. We all have someone to look out for. For him, it's Pepper, and for you, it's Bucky."

Natasha wanted to force herself to glare at Sam, but she couldn't bring herself to. As bad of a break-up as they'd had, she did care about him. "I know he'll be fine," she said. "He's got Steve." She turned and nodded to Sam. "Who do you have to worry about?"

"Everyone in here. They're the only ones I can do something for. And right now, I want them to do something for all of us. Doesn't matter how many gun-toting idiots are in here, because there is no one more determined than a person who will do anything to survive."

Natasha nodded in agreement. She motioned for Sam to follow as she walked through a row of lockers and to a closet. She pulled a bobby pin tucked in the back of her head (you never know when there's going to be a lock you need to pick) and used it to unlock the door. Inside was various pieces of gym equipment, mostly tennis rackets and hockey sticks. Natasha grabbed a handful of each and passed them to Sam, before grabbing some more to carry herself.

"This should be enough," she said before closing the door. She observed the tops of the lockers. "We can get a few people to hide up there with some of the weapons. You know, jump down on unsuspecting gunmen."

"Good thinking. I want you up there."

"Why? I'd be better down on the ground, don't you think?"

"Yes, you would, but that's not your priority right now."

"What is my priority?"

"Him." Sam nodded at Tony, who was in the same position as he was last time they'd looked.

"I'm not following," Natasha said.

"Tony's pretty messed up right now. His best friend is out there, and he's stuck in here. There's nothing he can do but sit and wait to see if she's alright. It going to screw up his judgment, so if someone comes in here, he'll do something stupid and get himself hurt. And you too. You're not showing it, but I don't believe for one second that you wouldn't try to strangle someone to get your way to Bucky or Clint."

"So you want me to not help?" Natasha asked.

"No. I want you to. You'll help by saving the two of you from yourselves."

"Sam–"

"I know that you could outdo every one of us combined, but that's not what makes you a hero," Sam interrupted. "You'll be a hero by doing what I said."

"If I do so, I get five free hits on any part of your body, and you won't see any of them coming."

"As long as it's not the nuts or the face, you're good."

"Deal." Natasha gave random students a hockey stick or a tennis racket, then pulled Tony to his feet. "Follow me and don't say a word until I tell you to," she ordered. She led Tony to the furthest row of lockers from the door. She opened one of the lockers and helped Tony climb on top, before following without his assistance. He was lying flat on his back, with her pressed against him. "Now you can talk, and to answer your question, Sam said it'd be best for us to stay up here. He says our worries over other people could cloud our judgment and potentially cause more harm than good. Ergo, we're to stay here unless we need to get down and kick some ass."

"I don't understand why he would–"

It had been approximately fifteen minutes since the last gunshot was fired, Natasha surmised, so of course, it was decided that there needed to be more. It was only one shot, and it didn't sound close at all, but it was enough to make her and Tony (and probably the rest of the class, but she couldn't see any of them) jump and tense.

"It sounded like it came from the other side of the building," she whispered.

"The computer labs are on the other side of the building," Tony whispered back.

"There are several computer labs, Tony."

"But with the field trip, how many do you think are occupied?" Tony tried to take his phone from his pocket, but it slipped and fell with a dull thud on someone's pile of clothes on a bench. "Fuck! Natasha, get that for me, would you?"

"You don't need your phone right now, Tony," Natasha insisted.

"Yes, I do!"

"If Pepper hasn't replied yet, she most likely won't now."

"That doesn't mean anything! I need to know that she's okay!"

"She is."

"But what if she isn't?"

"Then we'll wait and see."

"I need to know! Natasha, I – mmph!" Tony was cut off by Natasha, who placed her hand over his mouth and shushed him.

"Calm down," she ordered. "You getting worked up won't change anything, okay? All we can do is sit here and hope that everyone we know is safe. Can you do that with me?" Tony hesitated, but he nodded. Natasha removed her hand. She was a hypocrite about not worrying – she was ready to climb through the air ducts to find her friends – but she knew that Sam was right. Right now, she had to be here for Tony. He wasn't going to get by unless she was.

"You know," Tony said, interrupting her thoughts, "if this were any other time and place, this would be such a turn-on."

Natasha held back a laugh and smiled at Tony. "There's the pervert I know," she said.

Tony reached up and tucked a piece of Natasha's hair hanging in her face behind her ear. "If this was a movie, especially if Lifetime was behind it, we would end up dating after this was all over."

"Would we now?"

"Uh huh. And it'd be the greatest sex of both our lives."

Natasha snorted. "I'm telling Pepper you said that."

Tony was now smiling his usual idiot smile. "Good. Maybe I can use that to convince her to have a three-way with us as an anniversary present."

"Keep on dreaming, Stark."

Natasha rounded off their time trapped in the locker room to an hour. During that hour, there were four more rounds of gunshots, none of which were in the locker room, thankfully, or even near it. Each time they heard the echoing boom, while Natasha couldn't hear or see the class react (damn, Sam must have a good hold on them), she would instinctively lower herself on Tony, as if shielding him, while Tony would wrap his arms around Natasha and hold her closer. If three minutes passed without another sound, they'd move apart again, but unknowingly stayed a few inches apart when they did so. Natasha began to wonder when this would all end. Tony had stopped worrying about Pepper and instead focused on keeping Natasha safe, and vice-versa for her with Bucky, Clint, and anyone else she could name.

Suddenly, a little after their hour being trapped, someone banged on the door. Someone yelped from below. Natasha found herself being cradled to Tony's chest, and though on any other day she'd kick his ass for even trying a stunt like this, she found herself wanting Tony to hold her. She felt unusually safe, though at the same she was thinking that the last face she'd ever see was Tony's.

A door burst open, and Coach Chang called out, "It's alright, guys! It's the police! Everything's under control!" Natasha exhaled deeply, so grateful that this was all over. She pulled out of Tony's grasp and lowered herself to the floor, then helping Tony down. She threw an arm over his shoulders as they followed their classmates out of the door. Tony wrapped his around her waist in response. Sam fell in line beside her.

"I'm sorry, Nat, but you need to understand that I did what I thought was best for all of us," he said.

"I know," Natasha said. "Thank you for doing so."

Everything outside the school was chaotic. There were dozens of ambulances from all around the county running around and assessing the students. Police cars had blockaded the roads and were arresting the gunmen (there were at least seven from what Natasha could see). Students had flooded the front yard, crying and hugging their friends and boyfriends and girlfriends, happy to see that they're safe. Natasha scanned the crowd, but she couldn't find a familiar face.

"Tony!" All three turned their heads just in time to see Bruce pushed through the crowd, waving with an exasperated smile on his face. Clint and Maria Hill were behind him. All three had singed hair and clothes, and Clint had a bruise on his forehead. Natasha pulled away from Tony to pull Clint into a tight hug.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Just peachy. Bruce ended up doing some unorthodox things in the chemistry lab, but it saved our asses in the long run."

Natasha pulled back, but didn't let go of him. "And the others? Have you seen them?"

Clint shook his head. "None of them. Sorry, Nat. But I'm sure they're safe."

Natasha nodded and hugged Clint again. She scanned the crowd for another familiar face, waiting for on to fall in her line of vision. Fortunately, one did. Unfortunately, it was sitting in an ambulance. Natasha pushed away from Clint and ignored him calling out her name as she ran through the crowd, dodging around and shoving aside anyone in her way as she dashed across the schoolyard to reach her friend.

"Natasha! You're alive!" Steve exclaimed. He sounded extremely out of breath and was very pale.

"Are you okay? What happened?" she demanded.

"It's okay. Just an asthma attack." Steve smiled weakly and waved a generic inhaler at her. "Forgot mine at home. I hadn't needed it in so long that I just left it in my sock drawer."

"Of course you did." Natasha sat down beside him. "But you're fine now?"

"Yep. Sharon and Bucky helped me through it the best they could."

"And where are they? They're fine, right?"

Steve's jaw tightened. Natasha turned to face him and narrowed her eyes. "You better lie and tell me that they're okay, Steven Grant Rogers, or I swear I will kill you with that inhaler."

"Sharon's fine," Steve said. "But Buck… Bucky…"

Natasha felt the tears roll down her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around her legs and his her face against her knees. She was strong all this time. She couldn't let her barriers fall now.

"Oh, god, Nat, I didn't mean it like that!" Steve exclaimed. "He's alive, I'm sure of it! But one of them broke into the room and messed him up. He's alive though!"

"Steve, you asshole, why couldn't you just say that?!" Natasha shouted.

"Because I don't know how to tell _what_ happened to him! I didn't mean to scare you like that! I'm sorry!"

All the tears Natasha had been holding in let loose. Steve hugged Natasha close and let her cry against him, apologizing for upsetting her and letting her hit him. She wasn't going to be mad at him forever, but she needed someone to be mad at _now_. And that was okay with him. She needed it.


	3. Bucky, Steve, and Sharon – AP US History

Steve grabbed on to Bucky's shirt and tugged as hard as he can. "Buck…" he gasped.

"Quiet, man, I'm looking for your damn inhaler!" Bucky hissed.

"Not… in there…"

"Then where the hell is it?"

"…home…"

"Damn it, Rogers, who screwed your head on backwards?" Bucky turned to the rest of the class. "Does anybody in here have an inhaler?"

Everybody shook their heads.

"Look, Barnes, you need to calm down," Mr. Howlett demanded. "We're on the ground floor. Maybe one of us can get him outta here without those bozos with guns noticing."

"Wait!" Mary Jane hissed. "The cards!"

"What?"

"The cards!" Mary Jane crawled across the room and grabbed a red card with the classroom number written on it. "If we slide the red card underneath the door, the cops will know to get to us out of here first!"

Gun shots rang out from around the computer labs. Many students clamped their hands over their mouths to stop from screaming.

"Just do it!" Mr. Howlett hissed. Mary Jane nodded and slipped the card underneath the door. She crawled back over to Gwen Stacy's side and nodded as her friend assured that everything was okay.

The cards were a system developed by the school board for incidents like this. Sliding a green card under the door meant the classroom was okay. Sliding a red card meant someone was hurt or in need of immediate attention by the police or whomever came to their aid. Each room had a set of cards with the corresponding room number written on it. Mr. Howlett was against them, saying they were just asking for people to target them. But they were typically used in drills. This was a serious situation, and someone was in need of immediate attention.

Steve continued gasping for air.

Bucky looked between the door and his friend.

"Sorry," Steve choked out.

"You can't help it," Sharon coaxed.

Another minute passed. Only Steve's harsh gasps filled the silence.

"Barnes," Mr. Howlett grunted.

"Yes, sir?" Bucky replied.

"Grab some chairs and board them against the door."

"Why me?"

"Because you're the muscles without the asthma and I told you to, damn it!"

Bucky let out a small whine but did as he was told. He hated that he wasn't the rebellious one in the group. If he were Tony or Clint, he wouldn't have done anything. But he stood and gulped before stacking six chairs against the classroom door. When he was finished, he looked over his shoulder at his classmates, huddled and shaking. Steve smiled weakly. Bucky smiled back. This was to help Steve, he told himself.

"Hey!" a voice outside exclaimed. Everyone froze in terror. Bucky looked down. There was a shadow of a person outside the classroom. The shadow bent down and picked up something. "Looks like we got some kids in need in here."

No, no, no, this was bad! Bucky panicked and looked back at his classmates. They were… _relieved?_ Of course they were! They didn't know who this could be. Neither did Bucky, but he didn't want to assume the best right away. There was no way the police and gunmen were in the same building already, at least not without confrontation.

The doorknob jiggled. "Hey, is anybody in there?" the voice called out. The knob continued to jiggle. Bucky hoped they gave up and walked away. The door was locked. What could they do?

"Hey, I know you're in there!" The jiggling increased. It sounded violent from the other side. "I hear someone wheezing in there! You're giving yourself up, kid!"

Bucky turned to Steve. He had panicked, leading to even heavier breathing. Sharon tried calming him down. He faced the door again.

"You got till the count of three! One… two…"

The glass on the door shattered. A few people screamed as a hand yanked at the blind covering the broken glass and tugging it so the shooter could see their target. Bucky wanted to run away, but he found himself fighting to keep the shade pulled shut.

"Bucky, what are you doing?" Sharon hissed. Bucky ignored her. Whoever was on the other side grew angry and started hitting his gun blindly at the shade to hit Bucky. He didn't even reach.

"Fuck off, kid!" the person growled.

"You fuck off!" Bucky snapped. He surprised himself. Rarely did he curse. That was Steve's bad habit, not his.

A knife suddenly cut through the shade. Bucky ducked to miss the swipe. Before he could pop back up, the knife came down and right through his left forearm. Bucky froze and gasped in shock, before howling in pain as the knife was dragged down his arm, right by his elbow down to his wrist. The blade was withdrawn painted red. Bucky fell back and blacked out.

* * *

><p>Sharon tried her hardest not to scream in terror as Bucky collapsed on the floor, his arm gushing blood.<p>

Mr. Howlett charged forward and grabbed the intruder's arm, pulling him forward and knocking him unconscious with a few punches. He pulled the man through the broken window and laid him down on the floor. He searched the body and collected the gun, extra bullets, and two knives from him.

No one made a move toward Bucky.

Mr. Howlett looked at his class and asked, "Is no one going to help him?"

Steve squeezed Sharon's hand. "Help him," he wheezed.

She nodded and crawled over to Bucky. It was hard not to vomit at the sight of blood everywhere. "What should I do?" she asked.

Mr. Howlett took off his shirt and threw it at her. "Wrap it over the wound and apply pressure," he ordered. He looked up. "Someone help her! This ain't a one-person job!"

"Yes, sir!" Kamala exclaimed. She crawled over and took some hairbands from her wrist. She helped knot parts of the shirt around Bucky's arm. The once-yellow shirt was now a deep red.

"Listen and listen good," Mr. Howlett whispered loudly. Everyone leaned in to hear him. "The next class over has larger windows. Large enough to slip out students. Since it's empty, you can just walk right on in. You need to get Barnes and Rogers out first, then the rest of you can run to the gas station down the road if the cops aren't already outside. You got that?" Twenty heads nodded in agreement. "Good. You have two minutes to grab whatever shit you need."

"What do you need?" Kamala asked.

Sharon gulped. "Just my phone. It's in my front pocket."

"And him?"

Sharon looked down at Bucky. "He… he was late to school. He didn't bring anything," she said, spacey. If he had been a few minutes later, he might have not been able to get into the school. Then he wouldn't be bleeding out in AP History, because Steve forgot his inhaler on the day he had an asthma attack.

"Here." Sharon looked up to see Kamala holding out her Android. Sharon nodded in acknowledgement and put it in her back pocket.

"Thanks," she replied absently.

"Hey." Kamala reached over and grabbed one of Sharon's hands. She squeezed it gently. "He's going to be okay."

Sharon nodded. "Right."

"Time's up," Mr. Howlett hissed. He had moved all the chairs Bucky had stacked aside. He opened the door, the intruder's gun in hand, and checked down the halls. "Coast is clear. Watson, take the lead. Let the two boys through first." Mary Jane nodded and led the way. Kamala hoisted Bucky into her arms bridal-style while Sharon held Bucky's arm, impressed by how strong the other much-thinner girl was. Gwen helped Steve and whispered to him encouragements. Mary Jane opened the classroom door open and crossed over quickly to open the windows. They were wide enough for even Mr. Howlett to slide through without any struggle.

"You go first," Kamala told Sharon. "I'll pass him to you."

"Are you sure?" Sharon asked. She was nowhere near as strong as Kamala, at least not enough to hold Bucky.

"Yes. Just do it."

"Okay…"

Mary Jane helped Sharon climb out the window. Bucky followed shortly after her. Sharon dragged him a few feet away to make room for Kamala. She saw that they were letting Steve through first, giving Sharon the chance to see what was happening outside.

The street was flooded with police cars and ambulances. There were officers at windows on the other side of the building helping students through. Others came as well – nearby families, people on their way to work, a news station van with their cameramen and journalist preparing to film the action. It felt far away and claustrophobic at once.

"Sharon!" Kamala exclaimed, shaking Sharon out of her trance. "We need to get him over there!"

Sharon nodded. "Right," she said. She helped Kamala pick him up and went back to holding pressure over the wound. The blood was oozing through his shirt now, and now staining her hands. Kamala's shirt, though black, appeared to be wet with blood, but she wasn't freaking out like Sharon was. She was more focused on helping Bucky.

A group of ambulance attendants met them halfway with a gurney and gauze wrap. They helped the girls lay Bucky down on the gurney and began bandaging him properly. Sharon just stared at the bloody arm, watching the white sheet beneath it turn crimson. She hardly registered the other attendants asking her if she was alright, or Kamala asking if she wanted to stay with Bucky or Steve. All she remembered was being placed in the front seat of an ambulance by someone.

She didn't want this. She wasn't prepared for this. No one was. They never taught you to be ready for school shootings until you were out of college. She hadn't gone into school thinking she or her friends were going to die.

Sharon looked in the rearview mirror as they drove away. The police were still helping students out of the building through the window. She wondered who else she knew was hurt or safe.

She looked out the windshield and blocked that thought. She didn't want to know anymore. She didn't know if she could handle the answer she would receive.


	4. Bruce, Clint, & Maria – AP Chemistry Lab

Clint crawled across the room to the door, where Maria was leaning back against it with a surprisingly calm face. He kneeled beside her and sighed. "How're you holding up?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Not the first time I've been stuck in the same building as an armed nutjob," she said. "You?"

"Same. My brother's apartment in New York is messed up."

"Chicago's no better." Maria balled her hand into a fist. "You'd think a prestigious private school would be better than some run-down building. Just goes to show that you can never escape anything."

"Westchester might be a step up from everywhere else in the country, but it doesn't mean crazy people can't find their way here," Clint said. He looked over to Bruce, who was comforting his cousin Jennifer. "We can't just sit in here."

"I'm starting to feel claustrophobic. Imagine if one of them has a panic attack." Maria tugged at the collar of her navy polo. "But the closet is safer than the classroom. Be grateful there are only thirteen of us instead of thirty."

"Guess that's true." Clint moved from kneeling into sitting, his legs bent and knees close to his chest. "Did I ever tell you that I hate Mondays?"

"Now you have a reason to."

Clint sighed. He looked at Maria's fist, noticing the knuckles slowly whitening. "You look like you could use a cigarette," he said.

She snorted. "You got one?" she asked jokingly.

"Never leave without." Clint pulled out a crumpled pack from his pocket, opening it to reveal six cigarettes and a lighter.

"Huh. Well I'll be damned." Maria held out her hand in refusal and shook her head. "But now's not the time of place."

Clint nodded and pocketed the cigarettes. "When we get out of this mess, we can smoke."

"'When' and not 'if'? Well aren't you an optimist today, Barton."

"I'd rather not scare van Dyne any more than she already is."

"You think she's bad, Pym looks ready to piss himself."

Bruce scooted over to where they were in time to catch the end of their conversation. "How considerate," he said. "Only you two would make jokes in this situation."

"At least we aren't ready to piss ourselves," Maria replied casually.

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Well, since you two are bragging about being the only two people not scared to death in a life-or-death situation," he continued, "you mind helping me?"

"I'm not the comforting type," Maria answered.

"My form of comforting is usually sexual," Clint added.

Bruce looked between the two of them like he'd never met them before. "I seriously need to make new friends," he said. He shook his head in disgust. He stood and moved the blind over the window slightly to peer into the main classroom. "It's clear. For now." He walked across the room to check the other side, since Mr. McCoy was too distracted to stop him. Bruce's eyes widened when he moved back the blind. "Holy shit."

"What? Are they in there?" Clint asked.

"No. Ms. MacTaggert left out a cooler of dry ice." Bruce turned back to them. "The class is empty, but I'm sure the door is unlocked. If we could get out hands on it…" Bruce looked back out the window. Clint and Maria shared a look and each shrugged. Who was wiser than Bruce? Plus, if anything went wrong, they could blame him and haunt him from beyond the grave.

"Keep McCoy distracted for a few minutes," Maria ordered as she stood up. She turned and pulled Clint to his feet, holding him steady when he almost fell back down.

"Like you said, no one is freaking out like Hank Pym," Bruce said. "Now make it quick."

"Aye, aye, captain," Clint said, saluting him. Bruce groaned and opened the door to the other science lab wide enough for Clint and Maria to slip through the opening.

Maria motioned for Clint to stay behind as she walked quietly across the room (seriously, how did girls do that? It always annoyed Clint how easily Natasha could do it) and crawled beneath the uncovered window. She then looked outside the window, nodding to Clint in approval when she saw that no one was around, before walking back over.

"We're in the far end of an upstairs hall," she murmured. "They probably haven't made it this far yet."

"What about the gym?" Clint asked. "That's where Tasha is."

"And Sam and Tony are there to make sure she's okay, though knowing her, she'll be fine." She moved to one end of the cooler. Clint moved to the other. "On three. One… two…"

Just before she said three, gunshots echoed down the hall. It wasn't too close, but it was definitely upstairs. Screams shortly followed.

"Hurry!" Clint cried. He and Maria picked up the cooler and quickly scooted back toward the closet. Bruce opened the door before they reached it. By the time Mr. McCoy looked over from his shaking and crying students. Clint and Maria were sitting on the cooler like it had been there all along, while Bruce was sitting on the floor with his eyes closed and legs crossed. The students grinned when he turned back around.

"I never knew you were such a bad student, Bruce," Maria commended.

"Well, when you hang around Tony too much, it starts to rub off on you," Bruce said.

Clint kicked his heel against the cooler. "Now that we risked our lives for this, what's the next step, Brucey?" he asked.

"Glad you asked. You still have that two-liter of Sprite in your lab cabinet that you stole from Thor last week?"

"Yeah."

"That was you?" Maria asked. "Loki spent two days bitching about it!"

"That was Loki's?" Clint asked. "Good thing I haven't drank from it yet! I don't want any of his diseases."

"Focus, children!" Bruce interrupted. He paused to collect himself. "Dry ice in a container of liquid can explode. If we get that set up somewhere, at the least, we can cause a distraction."

"Two things," Maria said. "First, we could accidentally lure them here–"

"Which we won't do, I promise," Bruce said.

"–and second, can we use water bottles too? I'm sure we can find at least three more."

"What about fire?" Clint asked. "Can we use fire?"

Bruce and Maria stared at Clint. "Anyway," Bruce said, "yes, we can use water bottles."

"Wanna get started?" Maria asked.

"Might as well before the teacher catches on."

Again, Bruce stood guard as Clint and Maria moved the cooler into their classroom. This time, Bruce followed them. He waited for Maria to scavenge every bag in the room, returning with seven bottles of water, while Clint came back bearing the bottle of Sprite, now holding it a distance away from him like it was poisonous.

"You're so immature," Bruce muttered as he took the bottle from Clint.

"Would an immature person bring this from his lab cabinet?" Clint asked, brandishing a bottle of lighter fluid from behind him.

"Did you have that in your pants?" Maria asked.

"How long have you had that in your lab cabinet?" Bruce asked.

Clint shrugged. "I needed to refill my lighter somewhere. Nobody's noticed it so far."

"In a room filled with faucets that pour out gas and that has Bunsen burners, you are refilling your lighter."

"Do you want me to punch him for you?" Maria asked.

"Just make sure he doesn't do anything stupid," Bruce replied.

"Oh, come on, Bruce, lighten up!" Clint said. "I'm just joking."

"You're acting like Tony would in this kind of situation, and I'm going to lose my temper."

"And what're you gonna do about it?"

"Remember when Tony had a black eye last month?"

Clint gasped. "He said that was from a failed experiment."

"Now you know the truth. So sit on the floor and stop getting in the way."

"Fine!" Clint crossed his arms and sat on the floor, pouting like a child. Maria and Bruce rolled their eyes and began setting the bottles by the door. Clint busied himself untying and retying his shoelaces. He heard the two of them moving things around and walking back and forth, but he didn't look up. Not until about ten minutes had passed, and there was a knock on the door. Maria and Bruce were standing by the door, holding dry ice in towels in their hands over the open bottles and stiff as boards.

"Anybody home?" a deep voice asked. Something else knocked on the door, much heavier than a hand.

"Drop it!" Bruce hissed. He and Maria started putting the ice in each bottle and recapping them, before quietly moving back by Clint.

"How long does it take?" Maria asked. Clint was impressed at how relaxed her voice was.

"About a minute, maybe more," Bruce answered.

Maria and Clint's eyes widened. "Bruce!"

"I'm sorry!" Bruce said.

"You waited until someone came around to the door to say that?" Maria asked.

"Sorry!"

Clint looked down at the bottle of lighter fluid. Well, clearly, they weren't moving to go back into the closet, nor would they be able to without giving up the rest of the class. It was do or die. Nothing left to lose. Why the hell not?

Clint grabbed the bottle, opened it, and squeezed it as hard as he could, pouring the liquid on the door and slowly-expanding plastic bottles.

"Clint, what the hell are you doing?" Bruce hissed.

"Improvising!" Clint answered. He was barely heard over the locked doorknob being turned violently.

"Open the door, you shits!" the gunman growled.

Clint threw the bottle at the door, luckily leaving a trail of lighter fluid from him to the door. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his cigarette pack, and took out the lighter.

"You better know what you're doing, Barton," Maria said.

"We'll find out," Clint said. He flicked the lighter a few times before he got a flame, then held it to the lighter fluid. He pulled back the second it lit up. He grinned when the fire soon spread to the door. The bottles with dry ice were still expanding.

"Back up," Bruce ordered.

The gunman shot the doorknob. The door jumped with force. Bruce, Clint, and Maria backed up against the wall.

"I'm so sorry," Clint said, before holding his arms over his head and hoping it would end quickly.

Suddenly, the bottles exploded, forcing the door open and sending the gunman flying backwards. Along with the force of the explosion was a ring of fire that hit the three students, all of whom were shielding their faces.

After a minute, Clint looked up. The door was wide open, and their attacker was lying still against the lockers. Some papers were on fire, but not to the point where the classroom was going to burn down. Bruce and Maria lowered their arms as well. Clint looked at them. They both had slight burn marks on their faces, hair, and clothes. He probably looked no better.

"Whoa," a police officer said as he approached the room. The students gulped. Their classmates and teacher slowly exited the closet. They were dead.

"Nice one," the police officer continued. He looked between the gunman and the students. "You did a good job."

"Really?" Bruce asked.

Clint let out a laugh and elbowed Bruce. "And you thought I wasn't contributing jack to this!" he exclaimed.

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered. He stood up, brushing himself off as Clint and Maria stood as well.

"Does this mean we're safe now?" Janet asked meekly.

"Yes, ma'am," the police officer answered with a smile. "You're all safe."

Clint nudged Bruce. "Aren't I the hero?" he teased.

Bruce closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry."

"What for?"

* * *

><p>Maria laughed as Clint handed her a cigarette. "I can't believe he just punched you," she said.<p>

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it out," Clint grumbled. He put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it. He tossed the lighter to Maria and took a deep drag. He caught the lighter as Maria tossed it back. He blew smoke into the air. "That guy has a mean left hook."

"It's always the quiet ones, isn't it?" she said. She peered around to the front of the building. It was too chaotic for people to yell at the two teens smoking cigarettes around the side of the school.

"Always," Clint agreed. He was about to take another drag when a window snapping open caught their attention. They looked over and watched as two red hands gripped the edges of the window. Clint dropped his cigarette and stamped it out before walking over. Maria did the same.

A leg swung over to the outside, followed by half of a body, before the rest of the person fell out the window and collapsed on the ground face-down. Clint and Maria kneeled beside them and rolled them onto their stomach.

Staring back at them was a wide-eyed and blood-drenched Pepper.

"Pepper?!" Clint exclaimed.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt? Whose blood is this?" Maria questioned.

Pepper stared back at them, cringed, and let out a blood-curling scream.


End file.
